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Just like the pavement

March 11, 2009

The gray sky matches the surface rolling away under my wheels and distractingly precious are the birds flitting from branch to branch happy that spring is almost here. Its not cold, its not warm, its not quite nice out yet I am starting to mourn my winter wardrobe but looking forward to my very own bird on my shoulder waiting to come out.

Music blares out of a heavy metal and glass door propped up with a can of sand and cigarette butts as a short plump woman wearing clothes two sizes too small bangs her behind, stomps her foot while waving her hands in the air to the beat. It must be nice to be drunk and unconscious of your body size at three o’clock in the afternoon. Her eyes close and she is swaying to the music. The light turns green and I start to roll away from Zink’s doorway just as someones hand reaches out touching her shoulder beckoning her to come back into their arms.

Helicopters are busy in the sky searching for criminals, rushing sick people to the hospital or some secret CIA shit. Who knows. They fly away into the thick sky that is colored just like the pavement.

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